


What Grace Has Given Me

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Abduction, Children of Characters, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Multiple Hawkes (Dragon Age), Multiple Inquisitors (Dragon Age), Multiple Wardens (Dragon Age), Non-Consensual Body Modification, Post-Canon, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 09:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: For both Alistair and Cullen, the end of the Blight did not bring peace. It brought change and work and adjustment. When Corypheus struck, it brought panic and duty and courage. It is only in this aftermath that they finally get to experience stillness - and family.The two greatest heroes of their time each have one last gift for the men they love.





	1. Love Me Tender

**Author's Note:**

> Warrior (W), Rogue (R), Mage (M)
> 
> Dragon Age: Origins  
\- Alistair/Adessa Cousland (W)(Warden Commander/Queen of Ferelden)  
\- Zevran/Eyarin Mahariel (R)  
\- Penra and Jaris Aedeucan (twins) (W, W)  
\- Morrigan/Larin Brosca (R)
> 
> Dragon Age II (Hawkes from oldest to youngest  
\- Chance (R)/Fenris  
\- Tyare (M)/Anders and Airida (W) (The Champion)/Isabela (twins)  
\- Bethany and Carver (twins) (both alive, both Wardens)
> 
> Dragon Age: Inquisition  
\- Cullen/Faeryn Trevelyan (M) (Formal leader of the Inquisition)  
\- Dorian/Vestas Trevelyan (R) (Faeryn's first cousin)  
\- Solas/Seardea Lavellan (R)  
\- Iron Bull/Imata Cadash (W)  
\- Josephine/Tira Cadash (R) (Imata's twin)  
\- Sera/Atalanta Adaar (M)  
\- Cassandra/Ankaios Adaar (W) (Atalanta's younger brother, not an Inquisitor)

Alistair sat, watching the last of the dignitaries and noblemen of Ferelden file out of the throne room. The seat was plush, red velvet ringed with deep blue satin and gold leaf backing, but even it could only hold out for so long after being used for hours and his rear was sore and stiff. The crown on his head was the heavy one, used for ceremonies or looking particularly important in front of Orlesians. Today was Orlais' fault and he was sincerely glad it was over. There was nothing quite so agonizing as being a king, even that stint where he had to have sex with Morrigan. 

As his eyes trailed over the dispersing array of pompous colour, he spotted a dark raiment of armour, the same slate greys and deep blues that had become much more common after the near-disaster of Amaranthine. She was tall, the armoured one, with smooth skin tinted by the sun - a noblewoman who could not be tamed. Her hair was auburn, done up in a tidy and efficient bun that was unable to keep gentle curls from breaking loose to frame her face. 

Maker, Adessa really was a perfect woman. 

"Long day?" She queried, approaching the dais on which the throne sat with a coy smile. 

"You've no idea, Warden-Commander." He groused playfully. "With allt he danger in this room just a moment ago, I'm surprised I still have enough functioning vitals to talk to you."

She smiled tenderly at him, reaching out to stroke his cheek. Even through the layer of leather, he still melted into her touch, drooping a little into the throne. 

"Maker, I've missed you." He murmured, eyes falling shut as he leaned into her. Her touch firmed, combing through his hair and knocking the crown off his head, letting it fall somewhere behind him. It felt so good to be rid of it, knowing that the burden of caring for the country and the clogging sensation that came with dealing with court was now not entirely his alone to bear. 

"I've missed you too, my king." She teased gently, leaning downt o kiss his forehead. "But now, at long last, it is done."

"It is done." He agreed with a weary sigh. 

"All that is left to us is to cleanse the Taint."

"I almost forgot about that." He bumped her nose with his. 

"I will never leave your side again, I swear it." She said, voice heavy and sincere.

"I'm going to hold you to that."

* * *

Cullen would never tire of waking up to sunlight streaming through the drapes and the scent of fresh mountain air drifting in through the open windows. Being this high up was wonderful, and being in his wife's chambers was even better. There was nothing quite like waking up in the morning to see Faeryn on her side, face dappled by the morning light and hair loose about her shoulders. He loved the sensation of her smooth skin meeting jagged scars, feeling something of a kinship in them. He was himself covered in scars, even on his face, and though the process of getting scars was never a good one, there was something to be said about two people facing down impossible odds and coming together to find happiness. 

Faeryn made something of a sniffling noise before she rolled onto her other side, right into Cullen, and buried her face in his bare chest, making a contented noise and sighing when she finally got comfortable against him.

He stroked his hand through her hair. It was so rare that his wife - his _wife!_ \- had any chances to rest peacefully since the Breach had initially opened. From prisoner to Herald to Lead Inquisitor with barely a moment to breathe in between and somehow, she had time to fall in love with him. Truly, the most amazing of women. 

"No nightmares?" She murmured.

He jolted, chuckling lightly in embarrassment. "N-no, not last night."

"Dreams of me?"

"Maybe . . . "

"That explains why you're poking me."

"What? No, I'm no- Oh! Oh my . . . Maker, I guess I am."

She chuckled into his collarbone. "Want to make good on that promise?"

"Andraste preserve me, you're going to kill me."

"Darling, I would never. I would die before I found someone like you again."

* * *

The doors to the Council chambers were thrown open, the guardsmen looking on in dismay when Adessa stormed in, still armed from her training early that morning.

"Clear out!"

Seasoned and weathered arls and advisors jumped to their feet before they could register their actions, moving to do as she said immediately. Only a few arls, now concerned for their pride, halted at a stand as the others shuffled out. Adessa caught their gaze and offered a scowl cold enough to extinguish the flames on the sword of Andraste herself. 

"_Out_."

This time, there was no debate (one-sided as it had been) and the remainder left. 

"I should bring you to more of these." Alistair murmured before that gaze fell on him and he shrunk back into his seat. "Maker's mercy, what did I do? I swear it was Argonath that ate the flowers!"

The scowl vanished from her face before it was replaced with bewilderment and genuine concern. Then, she started laughing. "You thought I would march in here, unannounced, throw out your generals and frighten them back to their mothers just to accuse you of eating flowers in the garden? I already know it was Argonath - he loves to eat lilies. Incensed my mother as little else did."

He pouted. "You would be about the only one. The gardener accused _me_ of doing it."

"I'll have to talk with Brigit, then, but that's not why I came here."

"Oh yes, you had news? What is it, my Queen, if I am not in toruble?"

She smiled, bright enough to light up the room and made herself cozy on his lap, despite the sharp blades of her swords hanging from her back. "I'm pregnant."

Now, that took a moment to process. 

They'd been free of the Taint for a little over three months. Most Warden dealings were in the hands of senior Wardens she'd trained herself, not the least of which being her (now) good friend Lieutenant Commander Nathaniel Howe. Under his guidance and stewardship of the Arling of Amaranthine, the number of Fereldan Wardens had grown considerably. After the Breach and Corypheus, she'd taken a serious step back from the Wardens and since the Rite, had mostly left them alone. 

Three months free of the Taint, of the nightmares and the soft hum of the Darkspawn in the back of his head or the lines of his wife's face. It had been so wonderful. And now . . . 

"Are you serious?"

"I went to the healer three times today, just to make sure she was right. I'm pregnant, Alistair. I really am."

And here he thought that she was going to accuse him of eating flowers.

* * *

He knew his mouth was open and he was gaping like a fish. Leliana and Josephine kindly ducked their heads and left the room, pushing back Cassandra too when she tried to enter. 

"Could you . . . Could you repeat that again for me?"

"I'm pregnant, Cullen."

"That's what I thought you said."

Faeryn clasped her hands together, trying not to wring them with nerves. "You sound a little vague."

He finally met her eyes. "Forgive me. I can't . . . I need a moment to let this sink in."

"It's okay. Take you time."

"No, you don't understand." He walked around the table and took her hands tenderly in his, bringing them up to his lips. "I joined the Templars as a child, took my vows and became a man there. I spent the entirety of my adult life in service to the Chantry, fighting wars and mages, living in fear and desperation. Never in my wildest dreams have I ever believed that I had the chance to have a family. I spent hours in prayer after we got together and cried once it sunk in that you would marry me. I've never been so blessed in my life as I have been to have you - so much so that I would relive the horrors of the Ferelden Circle and Kirkwall all over again if it meant that I was assured to meet you, to have you. And now, here you are, the most radiant, wonderful thing in my life, telling me that you're granting another lifelong wish." His grip tightened, almost as if he thought he would wake up at any moment. "You're with child, _my_ child. You could never possibly understand what you mean to me, what this meant to me. And what fills my heart full to bursting is how much _I don't deserve this_."

"No! Cullen-"

"You weren't there." He interrupted, voice and eyes desperate. "YOu weren't there to see me, incoherent, drunk on lyrium, terror and fury. You weren't there when I was trapped int he Ferelden Circle surrounded by the bodies of my friends and begging the King and Queen of Ferelden to kill all the remaining mages, abominations or not. You weren't there at Kirkwall when I stood before Hawke and Varric and countless others, seething in my hatred for all things magic. And here I stand, holding the hands of a _mage_, and _apostate_ no less, who not only has the courage to love me, but is excited at bringing my child into the world. You don't know what it feels like to know that I am so unworthy of this, but still selfish enough to beg you to stay, to try and keep something so pure in hands so tainted."

Faeryn was frowning, hard. "Cullen, darling, listen to _me_."

He met her gaze, old wounds torn open in his heart. 

"How about you let me decide what is worthy of me? You made it abundantly clear to me long before we first lay together, first fell into each other's arms, that you were troubled, had long-standing issues and darkness lingering in your memories. I may not understand what it's like to have gone through that, but what I can't fathom is why you can't see how Templar Knight and Knight Commander Cullen is not _my_ Cullen, the stalwart Commander of the Inquisition. People are allowed to grow, to change. You learned, and you regret what happened. I know you think of what would have happened had you met me before this, but that is irrelevant. Regretting choices is part of being human; a thinking, feeling being. Templar Cullen may not deserve this chance, but Commander Cullen has fought and bled and cried and sacrificed to be here, to have the opportunity to know what it feels like to hold his child in his arms, to have a family of his own in a land made safe by his actions. Commander Cullen deserves this and so much more. And is it he who is _my_ Cullen, the man who put this child in my womb. He's the father of this baby and though there are many things I wish I had of done differently in this life, _my Cullen is not one of them_."

* * *

Adessa barely left his side during her pregnancy. She attended every meeting, sat by his side all day long on the throne of the Queen, followed him through every ritual and argued for him with his advisors. It was quite nice, actually. For once, it didn't feel like his lonely self against the court, fighting against an endless wave of polite bitterness as nobles bowed to the bastard King. 

It was doubly entertaining to see Adessa slap the man who muttered that. Even pregnant and prone to spells of dizziness, Adessa was the fiercest woman he's ever met and cowed every nobleman in the room. Fergus told her many times during his visits that she would make their father proud and their mother huffy, making men and women shake with a single glare or biting nicety. 

Against what he was expecting, she didn't get very big. 

"She's got a tough build, but not a particularly large one." Wynne explained. "She and the babe burn thorough whatever she eats and she doesn't eat in excess. She keeps up fitness and does not coddle herself unnecessarily. It will do well towards her recovery after birth."

Alistair nodded to her and the elderly mage seen herself out. The King continued to rock his Queen gently in his lap, her head of loose ginger-red hair falling about her shoulders down to her hips as she slumbered, head tucked into his neck. 

"You are perfect." He whispered to her, one hand supporting her back and the other on her stomach, the eight-month babe pressing its own hand against his through its mother's skin. "Both of you. I love you more than I will ever be able to tell you. I just want you to know that, want to say it out loud. I love you so much and that will never change."

Adessa shifted against him, burrowing further into his chest and murmuring his name. It shot him straight through the heart. 

With care he'd normally reserve for glass, he picked up his wife and walked out of the throne room, trying his best not to jostle her too badly as he brought them up to their bedroom. 

* * *

Cullen was glued to Faeryn's side, an arm always looped around her as they wandered Skyhold. 

"You don't need to coddle her." Vestas said from her other side. "I am quite capable of caring for my cousin."

"And what makes you qualified for thata?"

Vestas raised an eyebrow and Dorian snorted. "Firstly, my mother had many children, of which I was the eldest. I've been through many births with not only my mother, but my sisters and brothers' consorts as well as my array of cousins. I've delivered more babies than I've a right to."

"A proper homosexual midwife." Dorian chuckled. Vestas' lips quirked up and Cullen decided then and there that he would never leave his wife in their company alone ever again. 

"Don't fuss!"

The foursome looked over into the garden, where Cassandra as scowling up at Ankaios. 

"Look, I can't help it. You are significantly smaller than me and carrying a half-Qunari baby. What _don't_ I have to be worried about?"

"Gettin' her pregnant again?" Sera poked from a nearby bench. Ankaios visibly did not appreciate her intervention.

"Do not try to distract from the topic at hand!" Cassandra snapped. "I am still very early, there is no danger to me. You must leave me space to exist!"

"Honey, please, you have to understand why I'm concerned. Even you don't know what's going to happen with this kid."

She sighed. "I suppose I cannot stop you from following me, but you will not suffocate me at least within the walls of Skyhold!"

"Okay, okay, I can agree to that."

"Good. Now follow me." 

Sera cackled from Atalanta's lap, playing with the Qunari mage's dark red hair.

"Now, what do you think they'll do once they get up there?" Vestas mused.

"Fuck. A lot." Dorian replied flippantly. "They are insatiable. Worse than you and I, worse than even Imata and Iron Bull, could you believe that."

Cullen snorted. "I would have to see that to believe it."

Faeryn raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you see enough the last time you were blinded, walking in on them?"

Cullen went _white_.

Vestas and Dorian didn't stop laughing for a week.

* * *

Adessa needed much more recovery time than any of them had expected. Wynne had done her best, but their Queen needed time to let her body heal itself. As such, it fell to the father of the babe to care for it.

"Is that . . . an infant?" One of his advisors sneered.

"Excuse you." Alistair raised the baby up a little, looking mildly offended. "This is my son, Adrain, in his first public appearance."

Teagan smiled gently from beside him, sitting up straighter to get a look at the rosy-cheeked little devil. Adrain, however, had just fed and was sleeping soundly, comforted by the warmth of his father's arms and the soothing tenor of his voice. "Hello there, little one. Welcome."

Adrain blinked awake just long enough to shift a little and flash his pretty auburn eyes. 

"Takes after his father." Teagan cooed. 

"Doesn't anyone else think it is inappropriate for him to have this little devil in his war council?"

"Last time I checked, this was _my_ war council, _my_ castle and _my_ country and oh! _my_ decision." Alistair levelled him with a look. "If you don't like it, you're well enough acquainted with the castle and the nation to show yourself out."

"All I'm saying is that it is Adessa's job to care for the mongrel."

This time, Alistair's gaze was sharp enough to slice through diamond. There was no teasing, no sarcasm, no weakness int he man that sat there now. Adessa had done her best to make sure that he would not lose his softness, but he was still a warrior, a former Grey Warden and a king - he would not be daunted by an old fool and right now, it was very obvious. "This _mongrel_ is my son and your _Crown Prince_. This _little devil's_ mother is the Queen of Ferelden, its Hero no less. She is your sovereign and you _will_ treat her with the dignity and respoect you _owe_ her for making sure that you lived long enough to sass me. Should you ever speak of my family in such a disrespectful manner again, you will not be invited back to this council and most definitely will be the _last_ to receive favour or courtesy on behalf of the Court of Ferelden."

Teagan's eyes were wide, astonished, but he wisely said nothing. 

"I concur." All of them turned to find Adessa, clad in soft breeches and one of Alistair's shirts, standing just inside the doorway.

"Are you feeling better, my lady?" Teagan, forever a gentleman, asked after he inclined his head to her. 

"Wynne doesn't want me to move for another two weeks, but that's far too long for me. NOt to mention it's cold when you wake up alone. I'm not used to it."

"So, which baby did you come looking for?" Alistair pushed his chair back a bit so he could look up at her. "Me, Adrain or Argonath?"

"Teagan, of course."

"Oh. Well, then, I'll have to veto that." He was back to himself, teasingly leaning back in his chair, Adrain fast asleep in his arms. "Lord Teagan is the only thing saving me form getting eaten alive by these vultures and I'm helpless without him. Request denied."

"In that case, I guess I'll just have to settle with you three." She sighed dramatically, but one of her knees gave out in weakness. Argonath was by his mistress' side to catch her - as he had often been these last few weeks - and the Queen righted herself quickly. 

"With all due respect, you should return to your chambers." Teagan said gently, a tender hand on her shoulder. 

"Council dismissed." Alistair commanded, standing, shifting Adrain to his other arm and collecting his wife with his free one. Argonath was faithfully on her other side. Teagan held open the door while they left.

"Thanks for saving me, my dear." He murmured into her hair. 

"Anytime." She giggled, breathless as she winced. 

"Is it that bad?"

"Not worse than getting stabbed, but this is certainly the most uncomfortable I've ever been."

"I can't begin to imagine." He winced, visions of his wife tearing flashing through his mind before he could stop it. 

"Oh well. Having you at my side and Argonath under Adrain's cradle will make me heal faster."

"I'm sure that Wynne would completely agree that this is entirely medical fact."

Adessa's grin was mischievous. "Absolutely."

* * *

Faeryn woke up int he middle of the night, moonlight streaming through her open windows. This was around the time Alyrra would start crying. Every night at two a.m., she would start to cry, wanting for attention and in need of cuddles. Overall, her baby girl was a low-maintenance kind of girl, which both parents greatly appreciated. 

Faeryn felt the ground on her side of the bed and felt Hellen's short fur, the mabari giving soft, low huffy breaths. Then it registered: Alyrra wasn't crying. 

She sat up immediately, her heart rate kicking up into her throat and her eyes desperately scanning. There was no sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle and Cullen's body was nowhere to be found, so that meant that there was no intruder that had gotten past her husband-

"_ . . . Sleep now,/ and dream of the ones who came before./ They are calling,/ from across the distant shore./ Why do you weep?/ What are these tears upon your face?/ Soon you will see,/ all of your fears will pass away,/ safe in my arms,/ you're only sleeping . . . _"

Faeryn stepped silently down into the floor, over the still-snoozing Hellen, and shivered as the summer cool of the flagstone sunk into her skin. She crept over to her western balcony, peering out just enough to spot her beloved framed by the moonlight on the mountains' snow, silver shining in a halo and illuminating the gold plate of his hair. He was shirtless, standing there, his old Templar robe hanging loosely about his hips. Alyrra was cradled in the flex of one strong arm, her swaddling blanket draped over her in such a way as to ward off the cool evening mountain air, but not restrict her movements. He was swaying back and forth gently as the infant held onto his hand, suckling and biting at his finger even as she was lulled to sleep by the richness of her father's voice. 

"You should sing to her more often." Faeryn commented, voice kept low and soothing lest she rouse Alyrra. 

Cullen looked up at her, a soft smile on his lips. "Oh?"

"You could also sing to me, if you prefer." She quirked a brow. 

"That won't be necessary, I think. If you'd really like, though, I'll sing to her more often." He looked back down at his daughter. "You should go back to bed."

"And leave you with the responsibility alone?"

"I hardly ever leave Skyhold." His free fingers stroked along their daughter's cheek. "Commanding the forces is not nearly as sleepless as it once was." He gave her a crooked grin that very much reminded her of a little boy. "Not to mention that there are many places in the keep that are good for sunbathing naps. And I . . . I want to care for her. I _like_ being needed by her. Maker knows that it will be too soon for my liking when she is ready to walk, then to run and will want to play without Father looming constantly."

Faeryn considered the look on his face and cocked her head at him. "Are you not supposed to want to care for your children?"

"Templars were raised to be compassionate and protect anyone in need of it. But there was nothing there that spoke to me of situations like this. Any families that I watched, was surrounded by, seemed to demand that the father distance himself from the rearing of the children. It was supposed to be the duty of the wife, the mother to nurture them to adulthood and the father had no part in that other than the practical, like teaching a trade."

She strode out onto the balcony proper and moulded herself to his back, wrapping him in her arms. He shrunk into them like he appreciated feeling small. "Cullen, love, I would want no less from you. You are her father. It is your right and your duty to raise your children with me any way you see fit. It would actually be quite remiss of you, I think, to only be around when she's getting ready to train with a sword or needs a jar opened. She could get any person, man or woman, to do those things. As her father, it's up to you to be there to hold her on nights like these, to nap with her in sunspots like the lions you are."

That got a chuckle out of him. Alyrra wasn't biting anymore and was barely sucking. Her eyes were closed and she moved only occasionally. 

"'You're the man that will be there when she takes her first steps, will teach her to walk, show her how to eat, dress, play. You're the one that she'll come running to when she falls and scrapes her knees, the man she asks to teach her how to ride a horse or the halla in the stables. It will be your armour she looks up at and dreams of one day filling out, of making you proud when she can beat you in a spar. You'll be the one she comes to when she needs to feel small and protected from the world. You'll be the one she comes to when she gets her heart broken for the first time and you'll be the man that she'll bring the love of her life to. You're the one that she'll admire and aspire to be. That's what it meant to be a father and I have absolutely no doubts in my mind that's the type of man you are. You'll never let your little drop of starlight be anything less than your world, right alongside me."

Cullen rumbled a soft laugh. "You're so confident in me."

"Why shouldn't I be? Are you not the same man who shared worries of being unworthy of raising a new life? Who cried in my arms the first time he felt his baby kick in the womb? Would such a man abandon his daughter?"

His expression was soft as Alyrra's grip on his hand finally fell slack. 

"Would the man who pledged himself to the Chantry and upheld those vows through woes and torture? Would the man who raised the Inquisition to its current status? Would the man who faced down an impossible, life-threatening addiction and _won_?"

"Never."

"That's why I have faith in you. Because you are all these things and above all, you are ours." Her hand gently laid over his dark fingertips running over the infant's sandy brows. 

"Woe unto any who try to take me from you." His voice was still that gentle tone he used for his singing and his body still lax, but the conviction in the choice of words made her heart sing and her pride in him swell. 


	2. Love Me Sweet

Adrain never understood why other noble children looked at him so funny when he was called away by his parents and left so readily. He didn't get why it was a hardship for them to go back to their parents. 

"Adrain, come please."

He turned away from the game of tag and took off at a stumbling run into the arms of his crouched father, his mother smiling softly at him from the doorway. 

"What are we doing today, Papa?"

Papa kissed his forehead past the mess of ginger hair there. Mama always told him how much he looked like his Papa and how handsome he was because of it. It didn't make sense why Papa blushed so much, but he was proud of it because it made Mama proud. 

"We're hosting a Landsmeet." Papa replied, nuzzling him a little. 

"What's that?"

"All the nobles come from all across Ferelden to talk about how the country is doing and to make suggestions for and requests to the Crown."

"Who is the Crown, Papa?"

"Your mother and me."

He nodded resolutely. It made sense - it was always Mama or Papa that Uncle Teagan came to for help or that people always wanted to talk to. That's why they went into the small room with the big desk and lots of chairs. 

"How do we prepare?"

"We're having a big dinner tonight." Mama answered. "So, first, we have to clean you up and give your hair a little trim. I've been meaning to do it, but I keep getting distracted."

He nodded again. It made perfect sense. "Cut like Papa's?"

"Similar." She amended. "Do you want your hair cut like Papa's?"

"You like Papa's hair and say I look like him. I want to look good like Papa."

Papa broke out into startled laughter and the red came back to his cheeks. Mama's smile was a little off - happy, but not the same kind of happy that she gave to him. This was her special smile when she thought Papa was funny or charming.

'We can do that. You'll look just as handsome as your Papa." She gave him a fluttery kiss to his nose and led them inside. 

* * *

"A little more like this."

Alyrra swung the dagger again and this time, it connected fully, sliding through the hay of the practise dummy and embedding itself in the wood. 

"I did it!" She squealed, spinning around so fast her blonde curls hit her in the face. "Oof! Did you see that, Father? I did it! I really did it!"

Father bent down and grinned that grin that made the sun jealous. "You're so good, my girl. I'm so proud of you."

She jumped into his arms, heedless of the armour that bit into her flesh. He had worn it all her life, so it was not strange or uncomfortable to feel it press into her, or how chill the metal plates were. It was fine, actually, because the fur of his collar was always warm and smelled like him - warmth and spice and a hint of Mother's vanilla scent. 

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, burying his face in her hair and his scratchy chin dragging across her neck. "I'm so proud of you, Alyrra."

She wiggled a little and twisted, kissing the side of his face. "I want to be able to fight like you do, Father. I want you to teach me more."

"Don't worry, daylily, there's still plenty I can teach you with that blade."

"And a shield? Can you teach me how to use that too?"

"I definitely will, but for now, we have to wait until you're a little older."

"Okay, Father."

He squeezed her tighter and she returned it, noticing her father's melancholy but not able to place it. "You know what you're doing today, right?"

"Yes, Father."

He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. "You're leaving Skyhold with Uncle Vestas and going to Denerim, to the court of Ferelden."

"Yes. Uncle Dorian is going to meet us at Crestwood and from there, we go to the court." She kissed his nose. "I have to keep my blade on my back."

He stroked down her hair. "That's right. And when do you do if something goes wrong?"

"Let Uncle Vestas run ahead and stay back with Uncle Dorian." She replied dutifully. Hellen walked over, sniffed them, then wandered away again. 

"That's right. You're such a good girl."

She beamed at him. 

"What do you say we go and see your mother?"

"Okay!"

It was mere hours later, just enough time for Father to get her all washed up and packed, that Uncle Vestas arrived, strolling through the foyer and stopping to talk with Aunt Seardea and greet her little boy, Fen.

"Uncle Vestas!"

The carrot-haired man turned, breaking out into a dazzlingly handsome smile and dropping down otno one knee to receive his cousin's projectile of a daughter. 

"Alyrra, sweetheart! How've you been? My, my. You've grown up so fast on me, haven't you?"

She planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "I'm so happy to see you again."

Mother was smiling as she walked over, but there was a cloud over Father's expression. She didn't want him to worry. She had Uncle Vestas and Uncle Dorian and, failing that, Father's little sword on her back.

"I see it hasn't been so long that she would have forgotten you." Mother smiled and patted her head. She nuzzled into it, but Mother turned her attention to Uncle Vestas, talking about what she needed done at the Ferelden court for the Inquisition. She extracted herself from her Uncle's arms and walked over to Father, tugging gently on his robes to get his attention. He cocked his head at her inquisitively, but she only about-faced, tugging him along by the red linens over his armour. Uncle Varric was sitting at his table writing, but watched them go, a soft, yearning kind of smile on his face. She walked Father all the way up to the battlements, then sat herself down on a stair that overlooked the whole courtyard.

"Are you nervous?" Father asked, hands clasped together in his lap.

"Don't be sad." She blurted out in reply, tugging his arm over so she could take his hand, doing her best to stretch her fingers into the distanced gaps between his. 

"What?" He blinked, startled.

"Father, I know you're sad. You're sad I'm going and you're worried. Don't be sad or worried. I'll be with my Uncles - they'd never let anything bad happen to me. I know that."

"How?"

"Because you're letting me go with them."

Father bit his lip and his hand curled closed around hers. He closed his eyes and she startled at her realization - Father was trying not to cry.

"I don't want something bad to happen." He admitted, strong and stable voice jilted and hesitant. "The roads are so dangerous and your uncles are high-profile nobles. I don;t want you to be prey to anyone and I think that it's too early to send you away without one of us with you."

"But you're letting me go."

"My daylily is turning seven soon." His eyes were watery when he opened them, hand cupping her cheek and wiping away tears she hadn't even noticed were falling. "I have to start letting you grow up sometime, don't I?"

"I love you, Father, and I won't let you down." She bent down and kissed his hand, resting her head on his thigh. "You and Mother always come home. It's my mission to live up to that legacy."

He wiped his eyes, but he was smiling. "I'm sure you will. My daylily would never let something happen to her, would she?"

"Nope!"

Father took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Let's get you back to your mother and uncle before I kidnap you and never return."

She shrieked when Father picked her up, seating her on his shoulders. Aunt Sera made faces at her as they passed, Aunt Atalanta only smiling knowingly at Father.

* * *

The room was a sea of adults in bright colours and strange costumes, the castle filled with more life and noise than he could ever remember it being. Mama and Papa had introduced him, then Uncle Teagan had taken him and brought him into the back garden, telling him to run along and play with the other children because his mother and father were about to be very busy. And, to be fair, he tried to listen.

Adrain knew he was a lot like his father - a little bumbly and definitely boyish, shy at times and playful. It seemed today that may fo the children brought here saw that as a weakness, muttering amongst themselves how _unnatural_ he was to be the crown prince. He apparently wasn't supposed to want to play, to want to make friends and when he tried to elevate himself above the hurtful words, they sneered that he was too full of himself, especially for being so undeserving of the position.

"Say it to his face or shut up!"

Many of the other kids made offended noises, turning on a girl about his age with vibrant golden curls pinned up stylishly on her head, but in a boy's formal attire. 

"Excuse me?" One the children sniped, eyes narrowing. "and who do you think you are, rat?"

The girl, undaunted, _snarled_ back. "You watch yourself, _prissy_. I'm Alyrra Trevelyan."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"My mother is Lady Inquisitor Faeryn Trevelyan and my father is Commander Cullen Rutherford."

"The Inquisition?" One of the Orlesian children laughed bitterly. "Such a quaint thing you are, thinking that your petty organization has more sway than _my_ family."

Alyrra crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, hip cocked in possibly the sassiest manner he'd ever seen. "And who is it, exactly, that Empress Celene owes her life and continued reign to? Who is it that has the Orlesian armies at their beck and call?" She leant forward. "If I recall, _your_ father was part of the plot to have her killed. I can't imagine that's faring well now, with your business empire sinking. Maker _forbid_ you wind up in the lower classes, like my father and I. Could you imagine a fragile _doll_ like you having to deal with someone like me?" She scoffed. 

"You-! How dare you you call me weak?!"

"You mean you aren't?"

The other kid sputtered in indignity. Something passed through Alyrra's face, though - it was the same face he'd seen his mother and father make when a challenger to the throne made vague promises of unseating them. 

"I'll tell my mother what you've said and your little _Inquisition_ won't last another moment!"

"Have I wounded your ego?" She rolled her eyes. "I should think your mother would be more disappointed if she learned how your behaviour might affect her relationships with the Crown of Ferelden and the Lord and Ladies Inquisitors. Could you imagine how scandalized she'll be, knowing you insulted the Crown Prince right to his face, going insofar as to bully him?"

"You're full of talk." One of the other Orlesians huffed. "Not to mention that you're a _child_. What, no more than seven? Would your parents do more than make the nanny send you to bed if you spoke to them?"

Alyrra smiled brightly. "Father would tell me to gut you with my sword the way he taught me. But since I wouldn't want to stain such a nice outfit with pig's blood, I think I'll refrain."

Over the boy's choking rage, another girl chortled. "A nice outfit? Perhaps if you're a lesser noble's _son_. with a mouth like yours, your parents will already have enough trouble finding a husband to pawn you off onto."

"If they're too weak to handle little ol' me, then I'm content serving Divine Victoria as Inquisition Commander until the Maker takes me." Alyrra shrugged. "Woe unto the poor soul saddled with _you_. Besides, what good is a dress? It's not like you can duel someone in it, or fight back. A waste of gaudy fabric, in my opinion, meant to add colour and humility where there is none." Her eyes sharpened. "Now, _apologize to Prince Adrain. I'm not saying it again._"

To his surprise, there were afew of his bullies that did turn back to him and mutter apologies before shuffling off, thoroughly chastized. 

"Too pitiful to defend yourself?" The original bully smirked in her direction. "Demand apologies to caster to the throne, but not enough self-respect to protect your own honour?

Goal achieved, she shrugged nonchalantly. "Your opinion won't keep me up at night."

"Aww. My little niece is growing up right before my eyes."

The children froze in terror as a Tevinter magister walked into the garden in full regalia. 

"Hey there, Uncle Dorian." Alyrra jogged over to him and hugged his thigh. He pet her hair and bent down to get a kiss on the cheek. 

"Hello, my little pumpkin. Giving the privileged a run for their money again?"

"The family passtime."

Magister Pavus snorted, eyes twinkling. "Truer words never spoken, my girl."

"Oh. I almost forgot. Uncle Dorian, these are the children fo the noble houses of Orlais. Orlesian Bastard, this is my uncle, Imperium Magister, Lord Dorian Pavus. He's married to my blood uncle, Lord Inquisitor Vestas Trevelyan."

The children nodded in terror. Dorian winked at them and pet Alyrra again. "Are you having fun?"

"Not yet." Alyrra sighed. She casta glance to her side, making Adrain freeze. "I might in a minute, though."

Dorian laughed and patted her shoulder. "I'll leave you to it, then, my darling. Just remember that your uncle and I are nearby if you need us."

* * *

After Uncle Dorian left, she dismissed the Orlesians entirely. If Auntie Josie was to be believed, they were full of hot air. If Aunt Sera was to be believed, they were full of shite, buried up to their own arseholes. Alyrra thought it was quite possible both were true. 

She walked over to the boy standing stricken in the far corner of the garden, where he'd retreated when he other kids started taunting him. It wasn't fair - he was the prince only because he was born and like her, wasn't very old. He just wanted to make friends, like she had thought she might, but she hadn't realized that none of these kids knew what it was like to be a kid. They never had mock swordfights with their fathers, let their mothers play with their hair or chased the dog across their yard. She felt sad for them, even once it filtered past all her disgust. 

"Sorry about that. I wanted to meet you properly before I started a scene, but that didn't happen." She smiled crookedly. "I'm Alyrra Trevelyan. Adrain Theirin, right?"

He nodded mutely, taking her hand when she extended it. "Nice to meet you."

"You too. Sorry about that scene. It makes me so angry when people are manipulative to get what they want, or just to be mean."

Adrain smiled wanly at her. "I should get used to it. I'm the Crown Prince, after all - what good am I at that if I can't take a few barbs?"

"Barbs in a court setting is a world of difference from a collection of children in a garden, don't you think?"

"I suppose so." He grinned right back. "Would you like to come play with Mama's mabari?"

Her eyes lit right up and he felt a little proud to have made sucha fierce girl happy. "You have aa mabari too? I have one back home - her name is Hellen."

"Mama's had this mabari since she was a young lady. His name is Argonath and he fought in the Blight alongside my parents."

"I know! After we tire Argonath, do you want to swap stories about our parents?"

"Sure. I'd love to know more about Ser Rutherford. I'm pretty sure Mama met him during the Blight."

"Wow. Do you know where? Father migth have told me about it."

Adrain frowned, thinking. "I don't know. Papa said Ser Rutherford wasn't . . . in the best state when they met the first time. He was . . . overwhelmed."

Alyrra paused too, thinking hard on when they could have possibly met- "Oh! When he was in the Circle." She cut herself off, nodding. "I understand. You're right - I don't want to know what your father thinks of mine."

"Mama's good friends with Commander Rutherford." Adrain was quick to correct. "I just . . . didn't know whether you knew or would want to talk about it."

She rubbed the back of her neck, looking away. "He's not proud of it. He was sick with his lyrium addiction and so many people had been killed. It's no excuse, but it is what it is."

"We'll talk only about the good things,t hen." He gave her a sheepish smile, trying to coax hers back out. "C'mon. We best find Argonath before Mama figures out what we're doing. She'll have a fit if she finds out I want to get dirty."

Her grin bubbled back up, bright and wonderful. "Alright. Let's go!"

* * *

He was eight when a woman, dressed in strange clothes covered in feathers, walked through the court chamber - empty right now - with a teenager trailing her. 

"Alistair, Adessa." She greeted, cordial. She gave them a slight incline of her head and so did the boy behind her, looking like he felt massively out of place. She turned her glowing gaze on him and though he felt like he should feel fear, he only cocked his head at her, captured by the softened steel in her eyes. "I see you did manage a little one of your own."

"Yes." Mama pet his hair, smiling tenderly. "His name is Adrain."

"Took much after his father in stature." The woman observed. "Got his mother's looks. You should be grateful he took after beauty, Alistair."

"It seems both my children take after their mothers." Papa looked more uncomfortable than Mama, but she was holding his hand, helping him like she always did. He wanted to have a girl love him one day like Mama loved Papa. "How are you doing, Kieran?"

"I am doing well." The older boy replied, black hair falling in his gaze. "How about you, Alistair?"

"Nervous." Papa replied, honesty enough to startle the newcomers. "did Morrigan explain why I asked you here?"

"I assume it's for the boy." The teen, Kieran, replied, cocking his head like a hawk. 

"I know that I am . . . not a father to you." Papa winced visibly. Mama tightened her grip. 

"Mother is plenty company." Kieran replied. "I enjoy knowing you and spending time together when you visit, but you do not need to feel guilty over me. I consider myself gifted - Mother did not know who Grandmother devoured to create her. Nor was it your choice to be separate from me."

Papa winced again, but Mama chuckled. "Definitely much more like Morrigan. Anyway, I asked you to come to make a request."

"Yes?"

"I wish for you to meet your brother."

He snapped his gaze away from the exotic teenager to Papa, eyes wide. This newcomer was his _brother_? He had a baby with someone who wasn't Mama? Papa wouldn't meet his gaze, but Mama smiled down at him, reassuring him that all was well.

Kieran assessed him with those sharp, shifting yellow eyes. "I understand. May I take him to the gardens?"

"Of course." Mama cut in. "I'll take you two there."

Mama took both of their hands, walking them down the familiar path to their royal wing gardens where he played tag with Papa and Argonath. Kieran allowed himself to be guided easily enough, waiting patiently when Mama knelt down in front of him.

"Be nice, my dear. He is your brother and he is a friend. Learn about him, okay?"

He took a shuddery breath, fighting back nerves, uncertainty, fear and tears. "Okay, Mama."

"My good boy." She kissed him on the forehead then swept from the gardens, gently closing the door behind her. 

Kieran gingerly sat down in a bed of grass, in the sunlight. He looked less intimidating out here, surrounded by the ease of nature where he seemed to fit best.

"So, little brother, might I get your name?"

"I'm Adrain. And you're Kieran?"

"That I am." Kieran smiled and pat the grass across from him. "I suppose I have some explaining to do, hmm? Take a seat and let me tell you all about how I came to be."

Warily, he sat down, playing with the grass and windflowers between his fingers. 

"Our mothers and father were the people who ended the Blight, as you know." Kieran began, letting his long fingers pass through a nearby shrub's leaves. "Did they ever tell you what it takes to end a Blight?"

He shook his head no.

"The Darkspawn are lead by an Archdemon - a sickly looking dragon who controls the minds and actions of the hordes to attack people. To end a Blight, you have to kill an Archdemon. Killing its boyd, however, is not nearly enough. You must end its soul before it jumps to another body and regains its form. Grey Wardens, because they carry the blood of the Darkspawn inside them, have the ability to take an Archdemon soul inside them, to stop it from finding another host to reform inside."

He nodded his understanding. 

"Usually, this will kill the Grey Warden. The soul is too much and they will die, taking the soul with them. However, no one had ever informed your parents that such a fate awaited them before the massacre at Ostagar. One of them was supposed to give up their life to end the Blight. Since they were so in love, of course they didn't want this to happen. My mother had an alternative that would let them both live."

He nodded again to continue. 

"My mother had a ritual which offered an alternative - allow both wardens to live, to continue to love each other. Our father was to impregnate my motherwith a child. When the Archdemon was killed, it would be drawn to the shared taint within the newformed child inside my mother. The ritual would keep the babe alive, but the soul would be sealed inside of it. To save each other, your parents agreed to do this and when they killed the Archdemon, the soul was indeed taken down into the babe.

"What happened to the baby?"

"I am the baby." Kieran explained patiently, no malice in his gaze. "I was both with the soul of the Archdemon, forever a part of me. Part of my mother's bargain with your parents was that she would do with me as she wished and that our father had to claim on me."

"How does he know you, then?"

"Alistair was a bastard child, meaning he was born out of wedlock and without meaning. He felt guilty for delivering me to that fate, even to save his own wife. He sought out my bother and begged her to let me know him, if from nothing other than visits scattered over the years. He didn't want me to feel abandoned, as if I was nothing to him. In fact, I have met you once already. You were so small you couldn't walk or talk then. Mother brought me here to see you , to share in the celebration of your birth. Your mother was a great friend of my mother's."

He sunk into his own thoughts, trying to process all this new information. 

"Adrain, hey." Kieran tolted his head back up, making sure their eyes met. "Don't dislike your father for this. It makes little sense to you now, but you will understand in the future. I want you to know that Alistair is a good man with a big heart who loves you dearly."

"I know Papa loves me. I just want to know why you were hidden from me."

"Our father wanted me around the castle more and more as you grew." Kieran admitted. "Mother would have none of it. She wanted me to be kept far from this life. She taught me magic in the Wilds instead. I imagine now, though, that it will be largely my decision to see this place again."

"Do you hate me?"

"Hmm? What for?"

"Everybody wants the throne." He sniffed. "That means I am the second prince. You are the one who will sit on the throne."

"No, no. Don't misunderstand." Kierean reached out to him and he went, crawling over to the larger boy and cuddling up to him. "I am not an heir. You are the only Prince here, Adrain. My mother disavowed connection to the throne and I have told Alistair and Lady Adessa that I want nothing to do with the throne. Our father wants us to know each other as brothers, to grow to love each other and even become friends. Would you like that, Adrain?"

"Are you okay with being my friend?"

"Of course. What our parents do had nothing to do with who we are, the actions we take. I would liek to get to know you very much."

He sniffed agian, wiping at his eyes to make sure the tears didn't fall. "Do you want to play with Argonath?'

"Argonath?"

"Mama's mabari. He's quite friendly, if a little old."

Kieran's smile was gentle. "I would love to play with your dog. Maybe I can share something too."

"Like what?"

Kieran chuckled and booped his nose. "Like some of my magic."

"Oh! That would be lovely!"

"Come then. Let us find your dog first."

* * *

Two months of terrifying worry only to receive a markless letter. 

_She will be returned to you shortly, you needn't worry. She's been the perfect little girl. So good at keeping your secrets. Enjoy her company. We have made our statement._

A week later, a young girl of twelve years with glorious lengths of golden curls bouncing with each step walked through the gates of Skyhold. Cullen and Faeryn ran through the halls, falling to their knees to embrace her. 

"Why do you cry? I am fine."

Chill erupted across Faeryn's back and Dorian, quick to follow his in-laws, froze as if struck by ice. 

Cullen pulled back and met the eyes of his daughter. The amber was still there, still swirling, but there was nothing behind them. She was empty. 

"Tranquil."

Many of the soldiers around them, come to witness a family reunion, were haunted by the echoes of their Commander's broken grief, the image of how he clutched his daughter - now more doll than child - to his chest and wept into her shoulder while she stared steadfastly ahead. 

"I do not understand why you cry."

For the following weeks, it was like the Hold was in mourning. Cullen shadowed his daughter, like a wraith hovering over her shoulder. He was sleepless and barely spoke. Cassandra took over his post while Faeryn, misery manifesting in violence, took a hunting party and tracked the kidnappers across Thedas, making their ends miserable and long. 

Seardea had left Solas with their sons. Fen stood like a sentinel at his father's side, watching his childhood friend waste away as nothing. 

"What happened to her?" Fen asked his father, keenly taking in the way the elder's brow furrowed in despair. 

"She has been sealed inside her own mind, never to return." Solas explained. "Alyrra, as you knew her, is dead."

"And none of your magic can help her?"

"No. I am not strong enough to go into her mind and undo the bindings without killing her." He sighed deeply, holding onto the shoulder of his younger son, Elldran, as he clung to his father's leg. 

"Is that why Uncle Cullen is so sad?"

Aunt Atalanta picked him up, hoisting him onto her shoulder. "Yes, it is."

| | | 

"I never deserved happiness." He explained to her corpse-still body. "Never. I was so blinded by hatred and despair after the Ferelden Circle that I- that I- I let Meredith do as she pleased. I knew so many mages terrified of being made Tranquil. I was wiling to let the magical world burn, so close to that edge. I was saved, only barely, and I thought that perhaps the Maker had decided that I had learned my lesson well enough to finally be given some peace." He was shaking when he brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of her knuckles. "I wish I had of prayed to him to let me take the punishment directly. I brought this upon you, my beautiful daylily. My sins are your curse and have taken you from me."

She blinked, vague and unfocused. "I am right here. Where have I gone?"

He began to weep anew, the slow pulse of pain behind his eyes making each tear sting. He gave her a cracked smile, broken as much on the outside as within. "Quiet now. Sleep for me, will you?"

Obedient as demanded, she fell asleep immediately. He gripped her hand tighter and sobbed more desperately. 

"I'm so sorry. I've failed you, entirely." He wept. "I let you be stolen right from your own home. I let you get captured and tortured. I let you be made Tranquil. I have failed you at every turn and now I have failed you entirely."

from the other side of the door, Vestas and Dorian exchanged deeply worried looks. 

"Fine, but I will direct his hate to you come tomorrow morning when he wakes away from her." Dorian sighed before casting a sleeping spell, sending his brother-in-law to the bed, completely unconscious.

"Please do. I will handle him." Vestas reassured, pushing open the door and, with Dorian's help, cleaning Cullen up and laying him on the bed he hadn't been to in over six weeks. 

"Whatever shall we do about this?"

Vestas ran a hand through his hair. "Id on't know if there is anything to do."

In the dead of night, with all the candles burned out, a small figure walked in through the gates of Skyhold. The guard didn't notice him, quiet and tiny as he was. His hat hid his face and his cloak obscured the rest, even with the wind whipping it around his ankles. 

_Please? Is there anyone who can hear me?_

"I thought for sure you would be gone for good."

He stopped and the blonde dwarf cast him a wry grin. "Varric."

"How are you doing, kid?" Varric rumbled pleasantly, as if he knew nothing of the other's purpose. "How's the new mind been treating you?"

"She calls, lost and dark." He tipped his head sideways, listening. "She is lonely and afraid. The men took her, kept her bound and blind, and when the magic came to her, they touched the back of her neck and out went the lights. She is shackled tightly, screaming and crying so long in the silence. terror and worry an dpain and loss all wrapped together in sadness. She misses the Mabari."

Varric chuckled, Hellen's slightly dopey face coming to mind, even if it wasn't what the kid meant. "What else does she say?"

"Sick and curdling, the feeling of the brand. Cold and ill, like death, inside and spreading like ink made of poison. Crawling, gasping, desperate to breathe in a cage of water. A place of solitude and comprehension made into a courtyard of dead flowers with a wall of corpses manned by nothingness. She is afraid, but trying to fight, knows she is not supposed to see the daylight of her eyes from where she is hidden away in her mind."

"Are you here to help her?" Varric asked. 

"Yes."

"She'll be in Cullen's room."

"Thank you, Varric."

"Good luck, kid."

He left the dwarf, slipping past the guards posted about. The hushed tones of Dorian and Vestas speaking was to be heard behind the other door, but he was not here for them. Up, up, up like a little mouse going home. He sat next to her, not touching. She awoke as he entered, but remained still. 

Yes, yes. The light was dim, but still there, an he could draw it forth. It was not too late. She could be summoned. 

Two fingers to the still-burning mark and he was there with her. She stopped struggling, seeing him, and collapsed, sobbing in relief. He cradled her close, the chains melting away where they touched him. they were not stronger in the mind than he, and neither were the haphazard walls. He burned through them at a glance, the soundless void turned to the soft black of sleep, the stillness of the living, and she left his arms, once more a part of herself. He reached back, but did not make her forget. Cullen would not want her to forget, would want to hunt down her captors. But he made them easier, the pain not so new and the knowledge fuzzed with distance. She was safe now. The bind was broken, and he ones would come for her. 

He pet her hair, back on her bed, and whisked himself away like a whisper. 

Cullen was in forced sleep, Faeryn made to sleep by medicines. He soothed their minds too, relaxing their bodies and letting them know in their hearts that their daughter was safe, she was whole, and all the pain was gone away now.

Then Cole left again.

* * *

"Mama?"

She stood at the edge of the courtyard, some distanced nostalgia in her eyes as she watched him. "Good morn, Adrain."

He wiped the sweat from his brow, lowering the sword. The Templar skirt around his legs fluttered in the breeze. "Good morn."

She smiled fondly. "You look more like your father every day. Sometimes, we took rest days. We could walk no farther, so we stayed in camp for a few days to sleep and relax some. Once, we did so in Redcliffe. Such was the first time I seen your father doing exactly this. You are so similar in looks, it is most striking."

Papa walked around the corner, blushing furiously. Uncle Teagan followed, suppressing a grin. "Love, please."

Adrain grinned. "There are plenty worse things than looking like you, Papa. After all, Mama fell for you, right? Perhaps your luck wore off too."

Papa grinned back, snaking his arm around her waist. "He has me there."

"A handsome son. The Orlesians will be tripping over themselves at the next ball."

His blood ran cold. Kieran materialized at his side. 

"Fear not. I was raised for a time in Orlais. They are terribly fond of their Game, but tend not to inflict it upon foreigners. Alistair's bumbling charm did him great service last time they were abroad, I imagine it will serve you well too."

He leaned into the lithe mage. "I appreciate the boon, brother. Hopefully I'll not fall on my face."

"We'll see." Kieran replied, cryptic as ever. 

"We'll be there." Mama cut in. "We'll save you should anything bad happen."

* * *

"Why must I do this?!"

Elldran, that skinny bastard, only chuckled at her. "Because you are an eligible maiden. This ball is the spring engagement ball."

Alyrra scowled int he mirror, the corset cutting off her air supply. "For the Maker's sake, then, have some mercy and loosen it."

"You will be out of fashion if you wear it any other way." Josephine objected

"To hell with the Orlesian fashion industry." She panted, catching herself with shaking arms on the mirror's frame. "What good am I as an ornament if I pass out because I can't breathe?"

"You can. Shorter, shallower breaths and you'll be fine."

"Maker's breath, what are you doing to my daughter?" Father hissed, rushing in to loosen the corset. She almost fell, she was so grateful to breathe again. The black spots had been taking over her vision. 

"We need her to-"

"She is the junior commander of the Inquisition's forces, not some Orlesian doll. She dresses as the rest of us do. I'm not interested in her being leered at as I was." Father unlaced her almost entirely, turning her around and tugging off the corset. He looked her over, reaching behind her to pull out a red and black shirt. "Turn for me, daylily?"

She did, allowing him to slip the silk over her and lace it up comfortably at her back. It held and firmed much the way the corset did, but without killign her. 

"You've learned an awful lot about women's fashion." Auntie Josie chirped, a smug eyebrow raised. "You even dressed her right."

"Of course I did." He snapped back, irritated. "I've been dressing her since she was a babe."

"In armour, perhaps."

"_Josephine_."

"I meant no offense, Commander. Your sense is lovely."

He snorted and rolled his eyes, facing her once more. She met his gaze in the mirror, smiling as he adjusted the top some. 

"There's some pants and a skirt in my office to match this." He whispered. "With sheaths and knives."

"Father-"

"If they circled me like hawks, they will definitely target you. Plus you can actually move in it. I had your mother make sure."

She grinned, her resemblance to him intensifying. 

"Eerie." Elldran commented, eyes narrowing. 

"As if you're any better." She groused back. "For all I know, you're Uncle Solas in a wig."

Auntie Josie snorted, quickly hiding it behind her hand. Elldran's smile was giving. 

"It seems I am caught." He shrugged, pushing back some long strands behind his ear and walking off.

"Alright, Father. Let's do this."


End file.
